


Elements of a Time Lord

by the_magpie



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_magpie/pseuds/the_magpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets based on the periodic table of the elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elements of a Time Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Au as in the chemical symbol for gold, not "alternate universe".
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I sure do love this show.

**Au (Gold)**

Rubbing at his hair with an impressively white towel, the Doctor steps out of the TARDIS shower. While there are an infinite number of ways to clean oneself, the Doctor has become fond of showering. There’s something about standing under a cascade of thousands of droplets of water that is somehow invigorating and soothing at the same time, he thinks, so he has the TARDIS provide a shower for him - Amy and Rory’s room has a private bath, since they both take so much time with it. After a particularly harrowing encounter with a creature that Rory kept calling a “gelatinous cube” and Amy kept calling a “messy, squelchy thing” (which was really called a variegated hemiviscious ufrax) he particularly needs it.

As he finishes towelling himself off, he peers at his wild bird’s-nest of hair in the mirror and reaches absentmindedly to grab a hairbrush, which he immediately begins waggling like a tiny bristled sword. He stops brandishing his weapon of choice at himself when he catches sight of it in the mirror.

It is particularly attractive - bright blue and sparkly, with flowers painted down the back. Certainly not his hairbrush, which is a simple gray affair. He decides it would be best to finish tending to his own hair and clothing needs before bringing the brush to Amy. Most likely, the TARDIS’s self-cleaning mechanism simply classified the two brushes as similar and put them in the same place. It wasn’t always the most reliable system, like many things.

When he finishes, he carries the blue brush down the winding corridors of his ship until he finds the Ponds’ room. He knocks on the door briskly. There is some grumbling from inside, and after a few moments, a clearly disturbed Amy pulls open the door.

“Yes, Doctor?” She grouses, rubbing at her eyes.

“Right, sleeping, sorry. I just thought you might like this back - I think the TARDIS tried to tidy up after me again and it’s been sorted with my things.” Amy frowns, taking the brush and looking it over quickly.

“Sorry, Doctor, that’s not mine. Must have come from somewhere else.” She hands it back to him.

“Is it Rory’s, then?” Before he can finish his question, Amy’s frown becomes something between a glare and a bemused smile. She shuts the door as he is staring at his find with some puzzlement, baffled by her reaction.

“Good night, Doctor!” She calls from behind the closed door.

He wanders into the main console room with confusion. “Do hairbrushes turn up as space junk?” He wonders out loud to no one in particular. “Maybe it got pulled in somehow...” he thinks, and scans it for huon particles, thinking of the time Donna was drawn into his ship by the things. Negative.  
He pulls out a large magnifying glass, and examines the brush closely, from the smooth plastic handle to the thin metal bristles. There is hair wound around them, thin golden strands, and as he pulls one out to study it more thoroughly, his words from a former life echo in his head, about a girl all pink and yellow.


End file.
